The Dead Don't Dance
by RomanceGuru
Summary: Spike and River crossover. River can't sleep...Written for the prompt, ghosts.


The Dead Don't Dance

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River crept quietly down the stairs into the dimly lit cargo-bay, careful not to let her pale nightdress brush across her skin.

He would hear it if the air moved.

As she snuck up behind the crate on which the creature was perched, smoke loomed off him, rising up through time. It was a memory infused with the present, the mushy parts off her brain melding together.

He didn't belong here. It was a paradox.

As River came to a stand-still behind him, she dared not breath as she forced herself to concentrate, clear the air of the phantom smoke. Stretching out her hand, she wondered if touching him would burn.

Spike smiled to himself in the half-light. "I can still smell you, girlie." He announced abruptly, the deep inflection of his voice booming up through the large space and deflecting off the walls. "Vampire, remember?" He added as her scent enveloped him from behind, wild and untamed like the exhilaration of dusk right before the hunt. God he missed that.

Startled from her trance, River instantly let her hand fall from the tips of snow-blonde hair. The smoke was gone, sucked back through the vents were it belonged.

Trailing her fingers over the cheap wood as she rounded the crate, she calculated how quickly she could brake off a piece and slam it through the hide covering the animal. Not quick enough. She had lost the advantage of surprise.

With a defeated sigh, River sat down next to Spike and stared out into the dark corners of the ship. She was coming to realize that extrasensory perception was virtually impossible to foil.

Bottle of moonshine in hand, courtesy of the cheery mechanic, Spike turned and appraised the girl as she settled next to him, her posture perfectly poised next to his slouch. She looked defeated and he couldn't help but smile because of it.

They had been playing this game for sometime now. She the huntsman, he the hunted. She seemed to get a kick out of the sport and he didn't mind it none. As long as she didn't go adding Mr. Pointy to the mix anyways.

Nudging her with his shoulder, Spike cracked a small smile. "Gonna have to do better than that, lil' bit." He coached. "Can still smell the girl on you."

"Doesn't wash out." River deadpanned, swinging her bare legs next to his as she puffed a long strand of hair from her face.

Yep, they were quite a pair.

The vamp couldn't remember the last time he'd warmed up to someone so quickly. Had to have been 500 years at least; since Fred and her blue counterpart respectively.

Any bird that could take down a bloke with nothing but a hair barrette was one worth knowing in his book. Sure, she looked like a girl, smelled like one, but there was something novel about her. She was dangerous, and he liked dangerous.

"You're up late." Spike observed gently, noting that the dark circles under her eyes were back. "Boogiemen having a merry time in your sleep again?"

"Not boogiemen. Something else." River answered vaguely, and then grabbed the bottle from him, taking considerable drink as Spike looked on, impressed. Handing it back, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Want a ciggy as well?" Spike asked rhetorically, reaching inside his coat pocket. "Hear they go good with rebellion." Pulling out a stick, he lit up and inhaled with air he did not possess. "So, what's with the bender, love?"

Turning her body so that one leg dangled and the other folded limberly underneath her, River gazed at Spike's profile. High cheekbones covered by smooth, ageless skin. Sad blue eye's that looked only at you. He was magnificent. But was he _real_?

Reaching out, River poked at his leathered arm, smoothed her hand up it until she reached his pale neck, where her fingers lingered. There was an itch at the back of her brain, an answer looming just out of reach. "You have to help me disprove a theory, William." She finally solicited.

"Alright." Spike drawled slowly, the small hand on the back of his neck not going unnoticed. "On one stipulation though, pet. You've got to stop calling me William. Don't go by that name anymore. It's just Spike now."

Pulling her hand away, River's eyes lit up mischievously as she found her smile. "Spike's a dog's name."

The vampire felt his temperature rise just above stone cold. "Do I look like a bloody dog to you?" He countered hotly, and then watched as River's eyebrows raised in amusement. "Second thought, don't answer that."

Tucking her head under his arm, she peeked out the other side. "Need to see underneath. Lift up your shirt." She commanded.

Putting out his cigarette on the crate, Spike looked down at the girl impishly. "It's like that now, is it?"

River gave him a look that told him that it wasn't like _that_. "It's important." She reiterated, her large eyes serious under her lashes.

"You're a strange, bird." Spike announced as he wedged the bottle between his thighs and rolled up his white t-shirt. Then, acting putout, added, "You're buying me dinner afterwards in the very least."

River leaned over, her long locks spilling over vamp's lap as she peered curiously at the skin covering his abdomen. Running a finger over the pale muscles of his abs, she racked her brain. Subject _appeared_ to be fixed in time and space.

Spike looked down at her, amused. "Anything in particular you're looking for, pussy-cat?" He asked playfully, his hand hovering just above her hair. "I'm a real boy. Scout's honor."

"Your physics are flawed, William." River declared astutely as she lifted his shirt higher for better access to the materials. "But there are loopholes." She explained, as she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the memory of a heart that once beat.

A lecherous grin took over Spike's face. Undoubtedly, it would look like they were doing the naughty if someone were to happen upon them. The visual suggestion was enough to get his mind churning. He was only human, after all. Ok, well maybe not human, but a man nonetheless. And she was a right fetching thing, at that.

Busy with his salacious thoughts, Spike was caught off-guard when the girl jabbed her finger sharply up and under his rib cage.

"Ooww! What in the bloody hell you'd do that for?" Spike demanded, suppressing the urge to swat her off him.

River narrowed her eyes at Spike's mid-section as if debating it. "My findings are incongruous. You appear to be made of solid matter."

"Well, _yeah_." Spike exclaimed audaciously. "You needn't prod at me like a blooming lab rat to prove it."

As River sat up and looked at Spike, he rubbed the spot dramatically, his blue eyes piercing hers. "That _really _hurt."

Cocking her head, River listened to the voice that whispered her secrets. "Weren't always." She revealed. "Walked through walls haunting the haunted until someone…someone dishonorable made you whole again." Returning her luminous brown eye's to Spike's, she added knowingly, "But you're still incomplete."

"How'd you…" Spike began.

River tapped her head, pointing to where the excess resided. "You were the reason I couldn't sleep. An apparition walking through faded day."

"Dreams are tricky things. Don't always tell the truth." Spike acknowledged, his eyes glinting in the low light.

"Mine do." River countered certainly, it was the conscious moments that were the most confusing.

Putting the bottle to his lips for another swig, the amber liquid swooshed forward against the thick glass and down again as he lowered it and then offered it over to her. River shook her head in refusal, and Spike simply shrugged; he could care less either way.

"You know, I used to date a seer once." Spike reminisced. "Name was Dru…" Spike halted in mid-sentence, observing the girl's patient expression. "But I'm guessing you already knew that."

River simply smiled, leaning back on her hands. She didn't mind listening to the things she already understood. His voice was rich, deep and soothing; she could live in his words.

"You know, you remind me of her a bit." Spike admitted, connecting the dots between the two women. "Sans the liquid diet and insatiable craving for homicide, mind you."

Spike studied River's face just then, taking in her soft, full lips and warm brown eyes. At first glace, she looked nothing more than a babe. It was a guise that could fool most, make even the most sympathetic turn tail and run if they knew the truth. Not him. He found he wanted to help her control that embedded darkness; a struggle with which he was all too familiar.

"I'm not right." River agreed, her expression turning glum. "That's what they say at night and in whispers." She supplied further, looking up towards the crew quarters. "Think they can hide it, but I hear them." Exhaling, she looked down at the hands cupped in her lap. The ones they were afraid of. "I'm a fly on the wall. An inconvenience."

"Bollocks." Spike refuted, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. "Bet they're glad to have you on." He comforted. "Why, just the other day you rescued that giant gorilla-man thing from being put six feet in the ground."

Spike paused because he couldn't right remember the bloke's name. "You know, the one with the muscles and an odd attachment to his weaponry." He clarified. "Boy's got mommy issues if you ask me." Pausing, he lifted an eyebrow and he added, "I should know."

River felt a sedated by the vampire's words and the arm holding her steadily to him. Relaxing, she turned in and snuggled against him, playing with the buttons on his jacket while breathing in musky leather and brawn.

"They're all blinkered they see it otherwise." Spike added with a touch of acrimony. He didn't know why, but he felt overly protective of the bird.

They sat in comfortable silence like this, staring out at nothing in particular. It felt good not to be alone for once, for the both of them. A clicking could be heard in the distance and the constant hum of Serenity's engine reverberated through the hull, but other than that, they could have been the only two souls left aboard.

"There are men colored blue." River announced abruptly, her voice cutting chillingly through the quiet. "They drench you in blood until you're covered in it. Sometimes all I can hear are their screams."

Without missing a beat, Spike countered. "Ok, so maybe you're a little off your trolley."

Squeezing her arm reassuringly, he added, "But hell, who isn't? Spent a few weeks underground myself ranting like a loony-bird." He confessed, gesturing with his bottled hand.

"Granted, I was freshly en-souled and a bit disoriented at the time." He clarified, trying to unscramble the mess of memories that complied those dark and confusing months. "Also, the ultimate evil was working through me to destroy all of mankind and take over the world… or earth-that-was, were…whatever you blokes call it."

"You saved them. Sacrificed yourself." River affirmed, the tragic golden light from his past filling her. It was beautiful.

"Sodding right, I did!" Spike enthused. "Saved it better than that ponce, Angel, too. It's quality, pet, not quantity. You'd do good to remember that."

"Kill artfully rather than efficiently. Got it." River confirmed, and then raised an eyebrow in jest as she looked up at the vamp.

Spike's smile broadened along with hers. "Sass looks good on you, pet." He flirted.

"And conditional morality on you." River smarted back.

They held one another's eyes for a moment, stuck there by an unknown force.

A blush spread across River's cheeks, making her feel light. Slipping from underneath his arm, she hopped down from the crate to find solid ground. Feeling brave, she beamed up at Spike, "Dance with me?"

Spike immediately went ridged at the notion. "Uh_, _see I _would_, except dancing really isn't my thing, love." Setting the bottle down behind him, he turned back to explain. "More of a watcher myself."

Flouncing around like a Nancy boy really wasn't his cup o' tea. There were certain things vampires didn't do, like dance, and bake things.

"Besides, can't tango when there isn't any music, pet." He called down, justifying himself further.

"Don't need any. Just need to know the steps." River countered, bouncing on the balls of her feet, daring him to give in.

Spike looked around self-consciously, checking to see if anyone was about and then back to the eager girl before he let out a defeated sigh. He was a softie when it came to the ladies, there was no denying it.

"Alright then, but just a spin." He submitted as he jumped down from his perch. "Wouldn't want your brother prancing out thinking I was up to no good, even if I probably am."

As Spike approached River, he wondered where he should place his hands, or if the kind of dance she wanted to do warranted hand placing. As he reached for her hips lost in thought, there was a flash of shadow followed by a blinding smack that crunched violently into the side of his face, the force of it sending him reeling back a few feet.

Steadying himself, he raised his hand to his jaw and glared at the bitty thing as she stood still as death, watching him carefully.

"Oh, come on!" Spike protested. "What is it with you super-girls? Get a bit of juice in ya and you go all Xena, warrior princess. There a sign on my forehead says, _good for a beat down_?"

"You didn't hit me back." River acknowledged with disappointment, wondering if she should try again. It didn't make any sense.

Spike scrunched his brow in confusion. "Why would you want…" Then his eyes lit up as it hit him. _Reader._

An unconscious smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he called her out. "Well, bugger me backwards. I get it. You wanted to know if I fancied you, that it?"

"Courting rituals are odd, but it's what you like." River stated absolutely.

"Well, yeah. But not like that. Not with you." Spike blurted out before he could arrange them in a gentler fashion.

River stuck her chin out, swallowing her pride thickly. "I see."

As Spike watched the girl's expression fall, he let out an exasperated breath. "No, you really don't."

Moving closer, he looked down into her young face. For such a clever thing, she really was dense.

"Some advice?" He offered gently. "Don't go buggering into my past for answers, pet. That way you'll find nothing but ruins. And you're better than all that. Better than me."

Reaching up, River touched Spike's face where she'd kicked him, his flinch was almost imperceptible. "There is no underneath." She corrected softly.

Using her thumb, she wiped the trickle of blood from his lips, watching as his expression melted under her touch, a raw, vulnerable gleam softening his tired eyes.

"The dead don't dance. But I can. For you." River offered tenderly, brushing her thumb further over his bottom lip and leaving a dark crimson trail. Moving her hand from his face, she placed it over a heart that beat only in theory.

Spike closed his hand over River's dainty one, keeping it at his chest. The way she touched him made him ache, and for once he didn't need the brute force of violence to feel alive, to feel worthy. He just needed her.

"_River_."

Startled, River looked over to the hatchway to find Simon standing there in his sleep pants, the eerie light from the infirmary shinning at his back.

"River. Who are you talking to?" He questioned with an air of concern as he ran a hand through his sleep tussled hair.

Blinking in confusion, River looked back at Spike, only to find the space before her now vacant. A familiar hollowness filled her as she dropped her hand from the nothing that held it.

"No one." She answered forlornly. And then under her breath realized, "A ghost."

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End file.
